To the Muse
- 1Tho' no bold flights to thee belong;
- 2And tho' thy lays with conscious fear,
- 3Shrink from Judgement's eye severe,
- 4Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
- 5For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ
- 6Exalts my soul, refines my breast,
- 7Gives each pure pleasure keener zest,
- 8And softens sorrow into pensive Joy.
- 9From thee I learn'd the wish to bless,
- 10From thee to commune with my heart;
- 11From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part,
- 12To laugh with pity at the crowds that press
- 13Where fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun,
- 14Whose hues gay-varying wanton in the sun.